Friday, August 31, 2012

Musings of a darker side.

The night is empty. I sit on a green couch. The traffic of a grand boulevard passes before me. My soul is empty. I have become my own worst nightmare. My charms continue to feed this perfectly delusional existence. Somebody slap my hand back. Hide the goddamn cake. The infection continues to spread into yet another life. I insist on a new brain. One that doesn't placate, or doubt, or give a royal fuck about anything. My pride should be an indignant Queen. A noble ruler that lances the heads off of lovers, and dreamers. A cold rock to replace my heart is necessary. Let me spend my money on courtesans and jewels. Frolic with the wicked. Eat the poets. My house has caught fire, my child has been torn apart by wolves. My husband hit by a speeding devil, and yet, unlike Job I have not been dealt a better hand. I deny my throne by ignoring my place as a tyrant. I should rage more. Hate the world. Reject people. Care only for plants, animals, and fortresses. Yes, my life should be filled with the complete excess of my ego for I have turned into a sniveling thing- a wrinkle of a person, a speck of dirt, and that my friend is just as bad as being wicked. 

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Two voices

Voice #1: I need to runaway before it's discovered that I'm a fraud.
Voice #2: I am mentally ill.
Voice #1: I can't sleep.
Voice #2: When you say that, it makes me want to cry.
It reminds me of Adrian. You know why.
Voice #1: I know.

Friday, August 10, 2012

Write it out.

I am happy.
I know it seems like I've been miserable for a while,
but I have to be completely honest
I am so happy.
I've never been happier.
My grin is about to explode into madness.
My heart is racing.
My mind is quaking.
I'm overcome with joy.
The room is filled with stars and music.
Inside I am dancing.
You've heard it here first.
Happiness abounds in my heart!
It is worth celebrating.
This means something.

I love me.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Little things

Pomegranates in the fridge.
Cast iron chicken.
Crowns on blue boxers.
Collage art.
Mask studio in small places.
Accordion practice.
Yellow legal pads.
Terms of endearment:
sparkle feet
cuddle foot
cuddle monster
cuddle toe
"Dare I say her name?"
The beginning of a romance penned in your notes. 
Laughter is a gift.
I don't want to forget us.
I can barely remember ten years ago.
When my memories are discarded like old skin,
all I will have is the fact that I once I knew you.
You loved me and I loved you.
The smell of your cooking is gone.
Your voice is gone.
Your clothing, packed and stored two years now,
smells of nothing.
Every artifact is devoid of you.
These are just books on the shelf.
These are a just a pair of broken glasses.
This is just a half finished project.
These are things. Just things.
Lifeless objects, symbols of pain.